


Shiver

by goldstandard



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Face-Fucking, Fluff, M/M, Sexy Times, Trapped In A Closet, trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:56:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4422218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldstandard/pseuds/goldstandard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Foggy and Matt get trapped in a closet. They talk. Some parties get a bit upset.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shiver

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm fairly sure this is a prompt from the kinkmeme - you think I could find it? Nope. So either I dreamt of reading this prompt or I can't read to save my life. (If you prompted something similar to this, please let me know!)
> 
> Not beta'ed. As always, sorry for any weird tenses (my major weakness). Comments and CC are always welcome.
> 
> Song title from Coldplay.
> 
> Enjoy! :D

“Karen?” Foggy calls through the closet door and gets no response. Matt shuffles around somewhere behind him and bumps their elbows together.

“Did you try the doorknob?”

Foggy rolls his eyes. Even if Matt weren’t blind it would be lost in the pitch black of the small room.

“Of course, I did.” Foggy rattles the knob again for extra effect.

“Here, let me,” Matt says and starts trying to move past Foggy.

They’re trapped in the tiny storage closet tucked behind the office kitchenette. With shelving lining the walls, there’s just enough space for the two men to stand one in front of the other. There is definitely not enough room for them to stand side by side but with all of Matt’s spatial awareness he does not get this.

“Hold on, stop it,” Foggy whines as they kind of get stuck pressed together between shelving. “Stop moving, Matt.”

Matt finally stops trying to squeeze his way through. His left arm is pressed between his stomach and Foggy’s with his fingers dangling.

“Move back,” Foggy directs and they manage to untangle themselves into their original positions. “I’m going to kneel and you can just hop over me.”

Matt’s silence probably means he’s giving Foggy a look but Foggy instead chooses to believe it’s a silent agreement. Foggy gets down on his hands and knees and feels all of Matt’s weight press down on his back for about five seconds before it’s gone and Matt is jiggling the doorknob. Foggy dusts off his suit as he stands, hoping it’s only dust coating it and not spiders or rat feces.

“It’s broken.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Foggy retorts, running his hands over the half empty shelves for maybe a long-forgotten flashlight or anything useful to get them out.

“No, I mean it’s,” Matt cuts himself off with a grunt and then there’s the sound of something heavy hitting the floor on the other side of the door. Matt turns to him, the inside half of the doorknob in his hand and a stream of light filtering in through the hole.

Foggy leans forward, steadying himself with one hand pressed against the door and the other on Matt’s side, so he can peer through the hole into the kitchenette.

“Karen,” Foggy calls again, ignoring the way Matt’s stomach muscles twitch under Foggy’s fingers.

“Do you see anything?” Matt softly asks and Foggy shakes his head.

“Not much, just the kitchen. And,” He tries to look down as much as he can. “There’s something blocking the door.”

“What?”

Foggy moves his hand from Matt and tries to stick it out the little hole, managing only a couple of his fingers due to the latch being still intact.

“I can’t reach it but something is definitely there, blocking the door. Is Karen out there?”

Matt pauses, tilts his head, and gives a soft hum.

“Yeah.”

“Karen!” Foggy bangs a bit on the door. “We know you’re there! You can’t lock your bosses in a closet!”

Foggy strains to listen to any movement in the office. Eventually, he hears Karen’s heels on the floor and then sees her through the hole in the door. She stops at the end of the kitchen.

“Let us out, Karen,” Matt says in his most fatherly-tone.

“No.” Karen crosses her arms and juts out a hip. “You guys need to work out whatever it is that’s going on between you two.”

Foggy sighs. Despite it being almost three months since the big Daredevil reveal things were still a bit awkward between him and Matt. Things had been slowly progressing towards some sort of normalcy but it was still weird for them to be alone in the same room together.

“Everything’s fine between us, Karen,” Matt tries but even Foggy can hear the lie.

“We’ll talk if you let us out of here.”

Foggy watches Karen bite at her thumb nail in concentration.

“I can’t do that,” she finally answers, seemingly more determined than before. “There’s some water and granola bars in there. I’m not letting you out until you guys talk things through.”

Karen stalks off back to her desk. Foggy leans his head against the door despite the burning in his thighs and back telling him to stand up straight.

“Karen,” Foggy tries one last time. “If you do not let us out of here within the next minute you’re fired!”

Silence. Foggy is pretty sure Matt is holding his breath. The sound of heels on the floor. Foggy grins and looks. He frowns as Karen walks right past the kitchen and out the front door.

“She left,” Foggy says a bit shocked. “She just left.”

“C’mon, Foggy,” Matt says. “You know Karen. She doesn’t give up that easily.”

Foggy sighs again and pushes himself up to standing with a bit of help from Matt.

“Yeah, you’re right. Well,” Foggy’s eyes sweep over what little bits of the closet are illuminated in light. “We might as well get comfy.”

~

Foggy sits cross-legged against the back wall, opposite the door. The bottom wooden shelf lightly brushes against the top of his head. His eyes follow the beam of light which falls on Matt’s knee. He watches Matt’s fingers play with the hem of his pants, shoulders slumped forward, glasses hanging precariously on the tip of his nose.

They’ve been sitting there, not a word spoken between them, for almost ten minutes. Foggy doesn’t expect Karen back for a while.

“Have you read the file on Mr. Holtz?’ Foggy finally asks, mostly for something to say.

“Yeah,” Matt replies, nodding his head a bit. “Nothing stood out to me.”

Foggy sighs, “Yeah, me either.”

Another minute without another word.

“Foggy, do you-“

“I was wondering-“

They both stop. Foggy bites his lip.

“You first,” Foggy offers.

Matt shifts around a bit, pushing his legs out from crossed to stretched across the width of the room, soles of his shoes pressed against the wall. He looks like a sullen teenager.

“I just-“ Matt coughs and now his fingers are playing with each other, picking at his nails and cuticles. “Do you think we’ll ever be okay?”

Foggy sucks in a breath and forces himself to let it out smoothly.

“Yeah,” Foggy finally says, softly but honestly. “It takes time but we’ll be okay.”

Matt nods then waves at Foggy as if to say, ‘you’re turn’.

“I was wondering,” and Foggy pauses. Matt’s question had been a lot more serious than what Foggy was hoping to start out with. He didn’t want Matt to think he wasn’t going to take this seriously, whatever this was. “What do you hear right now?”

Matt’s head whips around to face him, in the process banging into the lower shelf. Matt doesn’t even acknowledge it.

“What?”

Foggy shrugs, a bit embarrassed.

“I just want to know what you hear – what does the world sound like to Matt Murdock?”

Matt’s face is stuck between shock, confusion, and happiness.

“You want to know?”

“Of course, buddy,” Foggy says with a smile, hoping that Matt can sense it.

“Oh, well,” Matt pauses and tilts his head in the way Foggy knows he’s taking everything in. “I can hear the people in the office across the hall – there’s only three people in there. One is sitting at their desk, a woman I think – I can hear her fingernails against the keyboard and she pauses every once in a while to pull her hair back. The other two are talking about a television show – Game of Thrones. It’s a male and a female. The female doesn’t get how there are fat people wandering around for months in some barren wasteland.”

Foggy chuckles.

“Outside, on the sidewalk, there’s an older woman walking east. She has a cart behind her, the wheel is broken – it squeaks every rotation. It’s full of groceries – apples, lettuce, some packaged food that smells like cardboard and chemicals. Probably pasta.”

Matt pauses, swallows, and Foggy just stares. Matt’s eyes are closed, he closed them the moment he started speaking, but Foggy wonders if it makes any difference.

“A man is sitting in a parked car but the motor is running. He’s smoking. Pot, I think. It doesn’t smell like tobacco. And there’s a young girl jogging, she’s listening to Beyoncé. A couple stray cats are in the back alley, going through the garbage. Two blocks down, in an apartment building, a couple is having an argument. They-“

Matt cuts himself off, clenches his fists and hunches in on himself.

“Matt?” Foggy whispers. Matt shakes his head, breathing forcefully.

“She hit him,” Matt says quietly. “He’s scared; she hit him. I don’t think it’s the first time.”

“What?” Foggy doesn’t know what to do, what to say. Do they call someone? How do they explain that?

“There are sirens – a cop car and a fire truck. They’re heading to something four blocks away. I don’t think it’s a fire – I don’t smell any smoke. Down the street, someone just stole that older woman’s purse. Nobody stops to help her. Someone burnt their finger on a hot pot, they’re cursing.”

Matt can’t seem to stop, his hands clasping themselves over his ears, and Foggy shuffles over to Matt. He places a hand over Matt’s closest knee and squeezes gently. Matt gasps for air like he’s hyperventilating.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Matt echoes like it’s some mantra in his head. “I can’t – I’m sorry.”

It gives Foggy insight into why Matt does what he does. Foggy knew, vaguely, from the story about the little girl Matt had told him but Foggy didn’t know the extent. Matt said he needed to focus, to hear, but that had been in response to heartbeats. Foggy thought it meant for everything but he’s slowly starting to realize how hard Matt needs to focus to keep everything out.

“It’s okay,” Foggy gently says, moving his free hand to cradle one of Matt’s, still pressing tightly against his ear. “It’s okay, Matt. Come back to me.”

It takes a few minutes, some soft noises and encouraging words on Foggy’s part, but Matt eventually relaxes. Foggy runs his fingers through Matt’s hair a couple times before pulling away. He imagines Matt’s head following for a second but shakes it away.

“Sorry,” Matt says for probably the hundredth time – Foggy stopped keeping count. “Sometimes it gets a bit overwhelming.”

“No need to be sorry,” Foggy says as he settles back against the wall. He lets one foot poke Matt’s thigh. “You handle things pretty well, overall, considering.”

Matt nods.

“It’s come with a lot of training.”

“With Stick, right?” Foggy inquires. The only other time they’ve spoken about the mysterious mentor of Matt’s had been that fateful night. He hadn’t detected anything sour in Matt’s words then, he had been a bit preoccupied with other things, but Foggy definitely doesn’t miss the distaste currently spreading across Matt’s face.

“Yeah,” Matt replies, tersely. Foggy sighs.

“Sorry, I apparently seem to be picking the worst topics out of the barrel, aren’t I?”

Matt huffs out a laugh and taps at the tip of Foggy’s shoe, still resting against Matt’s thigh and probably leaving half a foot print behind.

“Anything we need to discuss is not going to be an easy topic, trust me.”

Foggy doesn’t like the sound of that. He was hoping this would be weirdly fun in a bonding sort of way, or at least that was what he hoped every time he imagined this conversation happening, but it seemed to be more painful than anything.

“So, let’s get it out of the way,” Foggy offers. “Rip the metaphorical band-aid off. Tell me about this Stick.”

“He’s a dick,” is Matt’s automatic response.

Foggy raises an eyebrow when Matt doesn’t respond.

“And…?”

“And,” Matt sighs. “He found me at the orphanage when I was eleven. The nuns paid him to help me – he had a reputation for helping blind kids.”

“Did he help you?”

Matt shrugs.

“Yeah. I mean, after the accident it took me a bit to realize my senses were heightened more than average. I thought the same as every one else – you lose one sense the others compensate. I was only nine, I didn’t know better and I already had so much unwanted attention I didn’t say anything.”

Foggy stays quiet as Matt taps some unknown rhythm into Foggy’s shoe.

“There were always bad nights – my father did the best he could – but then,” Matt swallows, his fingers leaving Foggy’s shoe in order to pick at each other again. “After my father was gone things got worse – I couldn’t keep anything in check. I swear I could hear blood pumping through the nuns veins, could smell what they ate for dinner two nights before on their breath. Everything I touched felt like needles on my skin. I couldn’t take it. I spent most of my time crying or screaming the first week I was at St. Agnes.”

Foggy felt sick to his stomach. Matt had so much to deal with at such a young age. At eleven, Foggy had been discovering that girls weren’t so bad after all and summers still lasted forever. He had been so carefree and even though he had no knowledge of what was happening to Matt at that time he felt so guilty for the great childhood he had managed to walk away with.

“Then Stick showed up and he taught me how to keep everything in check – how to make my skills useful. He taught me how to fight.”

“When you were eleven?” Foggy asks, incredulous.

“He needed soldiers for his war.” Matt shrugs like it’s no big deal. “He treated me like what I could do was a gift not just a hindrance. He taught me to use the rage inside of me to become something greater than anything I could’ve become without his guidance.”

“You said he’s a dick,” Foggy points out. “But you’re talking like he’s the next great thing.”

“I know,” Matt whispers with what sounds like self-loathing to Foggy. “I can’t help it. After my father passed, all I wanted was for him to be back. Stick filled that hole but I couldn’t be the soldier Stick wanted.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I wanted a father – Stick didn’t want a son. As soon as I made my intentions clear he bailed.”

“He what?” Foggy baulked. “You were eleven! You needed someone to care for you!”

“Look,” Matt presses, urgently. “I know what Stick did was wrong. Everything he did to me – all the beatings, all the psychological mind fuckery, I know this and I hate him so much for that. But.”

Matt sighs and Foggy’s anger dissipates slowly.

“But he treated you like he would anyone else.”

Matt nods.

“He helped me in a time I was spiraling. I had ideas of revenge, of finding those who killed my father and punishing them. But what could a ten year old do? I’d be killed in seconds and even if I did manage to survive, what then?”

Foggy doesn’t answer the question, out loud or in his head. He doesn’t want to think of how drastically their lives could have been with one simple change. Maybe they never would have met. Foggy doesn’t ever want to think of that alternate universe.

“He saved my life, Foggy,” Matt whispers. Foggy hears the slight crack in those words and doesn’t need to see Matt’s face to know he’s crying. “I want to hate him with everything I have but he saved my life.”

“Well, at least he’s done one good thing with his.”

Foggy doesn’t mean it as a joke but Matt chuckles, anyways.

“Imagine a ten year old me, unable to process anything due to over stimulation, trying to attack some grown man?”

“Wouldn’t have even made it out the door,” Foggy offers, a slight giggle in his words.

The idea shouldn’t be funny, to either of them, but maybe the close quarters was getting to them. Their laughter bubbles out of them until they are happily crying.

~

Foggy munches happily on one of the chocolate chip granola bars Karen had left stuffed behind a couple bottles of water.

“Are you ever going to tell Karen?” Foggy asks before he bites off another piece of chewy granola bits.

Matt tears a piece off his own bar and shrugs as he pops it in his mouth.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“She’s going to find out, either way,” Foggy points out. Karen has a way of seeking out the truth no matter how absurd or ridiculous that truth may be.

“I know,” Matt says solemnly.

Foggy decides not to push that angle any further and chooses a different one.

“So, Claire.”

Matt stiffens slightly.

“Claire?”

“She seems nice.”

“Oh,” Matt breathes out. “Yeah, she is.”

“Anything going to come of that?”

Matt seems a bit sad as he answers, “No.”

“Turned you down, huh? That’s okay,” Foggy continues before Matt can wallow too far in self-pity. “Not everyone can be as handsome as one Foggy Nelson.”

Matt laughs and shoves lightly at Foggy’s leg.

“Okay, Fabio.”

Foggy chokes on the granola bar sliding down his throat.

“Fabio? Really? That’s your frame of reference of handsome?”

“I heard one of my teachers, before the accident, mention that he was very handsome. I saw him in a magazine once.”

“Do you think I look like Fabio?” Foggy blinks. “Do you think _you_ look like Fabio?”

Matt’s entire face lights up with his laughter and Foggy feels like he’s stuck staring at the sun.

“No, I don’t think either of us look like Fabio, Foggy, although-“ Matt pauses and throws a smirk in Foggy’s direction. “You do have the hair for it.”

“Oh God,” Foggy puts his face in his hands, empty granola bar packet thrown to the floor. “I hate you. This isn’t happening.”

They continue laughing, making jokes about Fabio and horrible romance novels, and Foggy couldn’t be happier. Sure, they have a couple cases they should be working on right now but the mental health of their firm is a lot more important than a paycheck.

“I guess enforced therapy sessions do actually work,” Foggy comments a few minutes later into the comfortable silence.

“Yeah, I guess Karen can actually be right some times.”

“She’s right most times. She just goes about telling people the wrong way.”

Matt laughs.

“So, how about you two?”

“Excuse me?” Foggy replies, a bit startled.

“Any more dates? I know you and Marci ended things, _again_ , so I thought maybe you and Karen would pick things up.”

Matt seems nervous, playing with his tie, and Foggy frowns.

“Nope, nothing. First off – I’m her boss. Anything that could have happened should not happen.” Matt nods in agreement. “Secondly – we both wanted someone else.”

“Marci,” Matt says, doesn’t ask it because in his mind he knows the answer.

“Nah,” Foggy shakes his head and wonders if his pounding heart sounds irregular to Matt. “You know we always work better as sexemies.”

“Sexemies?” Matt laughs out at Foggy.

“Yeah, enemies who have sex.”

“You guys aren’t enemies,” Matt points out.

“Yeah,” Foggy sighs. “But it works out better if we believe that we are.”

Silence and Foggy hopes Matt drops this line of questioning. But, Matt can get one-track minded when he wants to know something. Him and Karen are very much alike in that aspect.

“So whose the lucky lady, then?”

“No lucky lady,” Foggy insists and Matt hums.

“Lucky man, then?”

Some days, Foggy would like to strangle Matt.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s not interested.”

“Is it Brett?”

Foggy almost dies from laughing, he’s pretty sure of that. He’s leaning over so far he’s practically lying on the ground, tears streaming down his face.

“Brett is going to have a field day over this one.”

“Don’t tell him,” Matt hisses, obviously embarrassed over his words. “He will never look at me the same.”

Foggy waves Matt off.

“He already doesn’t look at you the same – he told me he thinks you’re a weirdo and that’s not a blind thing.”

“So, if not Brett,” Foggy groans at Matt’s incessant questioning. “Then who is it?”

“You don’t want to know, okay? Just leave it be.”

Foggy pushes himself back up to a sitting position and pulls his legs in to be sitting cross-legged again.

“Foggy,” Matt begins with his lawyer voice. Foggy cuts him off with a loud groan.

“Stop it, Matt,” Foggy says angrily. “You don’t want to know, I don’t want to tell, so just drop it.”

Matt has a stunned looked on his face and Foggy feels bad for about 0.5 seconds before he pushes that feeling deep down. Matt could probably kill Foggy’s childhood pet then look at him with that sad puppy-dog face and Foggy would forgive him in a heartbeat.

“Sorry,” Matt whispers, hunching in on himself and Foggy rolls his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Matt. I just want one fucking secret to myself, okay?”

Matt nods listlessly, as if he’s not paying attention to Foggy words anymore, more focused on the internal beat down he’s giving himself.

Karen chooses that moment to enter the office and Foggy couldn’t be more grateful. He needs to escape the confines of the closest that very second.

“Karen,” Foggy says in the deep, stern voice he only brings out on special occasions. He scrambles to lean over Matt’s legs and peer through the hole in the door. “Let us out. _Now._ ”

Karen frowns and seems to struggle internally on whether she should let them out or not.

“Karen,” Foggy continues, still stern but now adding a bit of honey to his words. “If you don’t let us out right now, when I do get out I _will_ destroy that Burberry scarf of yours.”

Karen squeaks and rushes through the kitchenette. She hastily pulls away the small filing cabinet she somehow managed to shove in there without either him or Matt noticing.

The door is finally open enough for them to slip out and Foggy does so without a glance back at Matt. Foggy grabs his jacket and briefcase from his office, ignoring Karen’s apologies and excuses, before storming out the front door.

Is he over-reacting? Yes. Big Time. But Foggy doesn’t care.

~

“ _Foggy, I think we need to talk – outside of a broom closet,_ ” says Matt’s voice on the third voicemail he left for Foggy. The first two were very similar but with more apologies thrown in.

Foggy leans his head back on the arm of his leather couch and sighs.

“ _Can you please call me? Before I break down your door. Please?_ ”

It’s about midnight and Foggy assumes Matt is out being Daredevil. Foggy should call him but doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to have whatever conversation Matt thinks they should. He uses the excuse of Daredevil to not call. And it works. Until Matt, still dressed up in the red costume, breaks into his apartment through one of the windows.

“That isn’t even the one with the fire escape,” Foggy comments, not moving from his laying position on the couch. He perched himself there when he got home and only left it for beer and bathroom breaks.

“Can we talk?” Matt asks, moving to stand at the end of the couch where Foggy’s feet are crossed on the arm. It’s a weird sight to see Matt in the costume looking like a shy five year old.

“I guess,” Foggy shrugs. “Can you take the mask off?”

With a sheepish smile, Matt pulls the cowl off, dark hair a mess and that’s an image Foggy will file away for the long nights he hates himself. Matt twists the mask in his hands anxiously.

“Can I?” Matt gestures towards the couch and Foggy lifts his legs. As soon as Matt sits, Foggy just puts the legs back down to rest on Matt’s lap.

“So, what’s up, buttercup?” Foggy asks a bit sourly.

Matt sighs, picking at the horns on his mask, keeping his face down.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“Damn right,” Foggy mutters as he takes a swig of his beer.

“I just feel like we haven’t been the same since-since-“ Matt cuts himself off with tight lips. “I feel like I barely know you anymore.”

Foggy pshaws.

“You still know me better than anyone. I still know _you_ better than anyone.”

Matt nods solemnly.

“Look,” Foggy sighs and sits up on the couch, pulling his legs from Matt’s lap. “Things are going to be weird for a while –you know everything about me down to the molecular level-“

“I’m not that good,” Matt interrupts.

“And I now know that you run around in a Devil costume beating people up. It’s going to take some time for us to get comfortable with each other again.”

“I just wish,” Matt sighs and tilts his head towards Foggy a bit. “I wish I had told you years ago.”

“Me too, buddy,” Foggy says. “Was there ever a time you were going to?”

“Once. That night we were really drunk; the avocado night.”

Foggy chuckles, “Seriously?”

Matt gives a soft smile.

“Yeah, when you asked about the spins.”

Foggy thinks back. That night was a bit of a blur to him. He does remember that conversation though because then they went and found the most disgusting donairs ever. Foggy woke up the next morning with onions down his shirt and he smelled disgusting.

“You said it was worse for you because of your senses. I just thought…” Foggy trails off with a small ‘huh’.

“I know.”

“So, the spins are pretty bad, huh?”

Matt chuckles and nods.

“They can be, yeah. Illicit substances and my senses don’t get along too well.”

“That explains why you’re such a lightweight.”

Foggy laughs along with Matt. He almost forgets why he was mad in the first place but then Matt has to bring it back up.

“Look, I get that you don’t want to tell me who you’re interested in, and I respect that, but,” Matt swallows. “I’m around if you ever want to talk.”

Foggy nods mechanically and stares at Matt. He wishes he could hear Matt’s heartbeat and get an inkling of what’s hidden behind that stone face.

“You interested in anyone? Besides Claire, I mean,” Foggy tests the water, maybe a bit hopeful.

A blush rises on Matt’s neck, a lighter shade of the costume, and shakes his head.

“I mean,” Matt adds. “Maybe. It wouldn’t work. They don’t reciprocate.”

Foggy winces in sympathy.

“I hear you, buddy.”

Foggy takes another sip of his beer in the silence. Matt stiffens beside him and before Foggy can ask what’s up, Matt mutters ‘Aw, fuck it’ and presses his lips to Foggy’s.

Foggy full admits that his brain short circuits. And that he doesn’t kiss back.

“I’m so sorry,” Matt is desperately saying, standing from the couch and heading for the window. “I’m sorry, Foggy, I’ll just-“

“Wait, what?” Foggy interrupts, feeling the condensation from his beer seep into his skin.

“Look, let’s just forget this happened,” Matt says over his shoulder, one leg out the window.

“No, wait!” Foggy finally manages, jumping up. “Come back here, Matt, you don’t get to ditch after something like that.”

Matt freezes and turns his head to Foggy.

“I’m sorry,” Matt says again.

“Get back in here,” Foggy says, striding up to Matt and pulling on his arm. “What are the people down below going to think when they see a leg hanging out the window?”

Slowly, nervously, Matt does return his leg to the apartment.

“Now,” Foggy says and finally has the mind to put the beer bottle down, settling it on the nearest bookcase. “Let me catch up here.”

Foggy tangles his hands in Matt’s hair, takes in the shocked look on his face, and then kisses Matt. Matt doesn’t hesitate in responding and pulls Foggy in closer by the waist.

“Seriously?” Matt asks, breaking away from the kiss with a harsh breath.

Foggy pulls him back in for another, letting that be his answer. He allows a hand to travel down Matt’s face, lightly scratches into his neck and receives a soft moan for his actions. Matt is clenching onto the back of Foggy’s shirt except for a pinky which rubs against Foggy’s bare skin driving him a little bit insane.

“Matt,” Foggy huffs and pushes closer, allowing his hard dick to press against Matt’s own. Matt’s hips buck forward at the contact and he bites Foggy’s bottom lip at the same time.

Foggy sinks to his knees and smiles at the small needy noise Matt lets out. Fingers brush uselessly against Matt’s waist where a typical division of clothing would be. Matt lightly smacks Foggy’s hands away as they try again to grasp onto anything that would devoid Matt of his pants.

Matt huffs out, 'Let me' with a small laugh. He reaches back, pulls on a zipper out of Foggy’s view and slides the whole suit off in one slick movement.

“I could definitely get used to the ninja thing,” Foggy mutters in awe before letting his hands go back in to pull at the band of Matt’s briefs.

Matt’s fingers trace soft circles into the top of Foggy’s scalp. When he finally manages to free Matt’s dick from it’s confines, the fingers press in harder and pull Foggy’s hair a bit tighter.

Matt mindlessly kicks his briefs away once they hit the floor and Foggy leans in to lick a strip from the base of Matt’s cock to the tip before bobbing his head down once. Matt stumbles backwards a bit, rocking from the sensation, and uses his grip on Foggy’s head to steady him.

“Foggy,” Matt says a bit breathlessly. “I need-“ He doesn’t finish his sentence as Foggy pushes him up against the wall, next to the open window, knees shuffling painfully against the hardwood floor.

Foggy wraps one hand around Matt’s dick, the other around his hip, fingernails digging a bit into the fleshy side of Matt’s ass. Matt is muttering Foggy’s name from up above and they turn into low moans as Foggy finally puts Matt’s penis in his mouth and sucks.

“Holy fuck,” Matt grits out, fingers pushing bruises into Foggy’s skin, hips jerking forward. Foggy’s dick twitches in excitement and a bit in surprise at enjoying the face fucking Matt begins.

It starts off gentle, Matt navigating his dick in and out of Foggy’s mouth. Foggy takes it greedily. When Matt realizes that Foggy is stroking himself to the same rhythm Matt fucks his mouth, Matt’s hips jerk violently and Foggy can’t help the loud moan that escapes from around the hard flesh.

“Fuck, Foggy,” Matt swears and can’t seem to help himself as his pace grows faster. Foggy’s hand speeds up to match, precum leaking in large drops. “You feel so good, so hot.”

Foggy does his best to keep his jaw slack, keep a steady air flow through his nose, as he reaches his orgasm fairly quick. Matt takes a few more thrusts, the last one burying Foggy’s nose in his pubic hair. Foggy’s eyes water as he feels Matt’s dick against the back of his throat.

Matt, thankfully, has the right of mind to let go of Foggy’s head in time for Foggy to pull off before he chokes. Eyes closed, Foggy feels the hot spurts of cum decorate his face. He wishes Matt could see him on his knees, face tilted upwards, mouth open with drool coating his lips, white streaks haphazardly cast across his face and into his hair.

“Fuck,” Matt says again, a little less heated but still very passionate. Foggy feels Matt tremble beneath the fingers still clasping onto his hip. Matt cups Foggy’s face in his hands, thumbs running across cheeks and lips, smearing the cum and spit.

Foggy closes his mouth and wipes his hand on his pants.

“I’m gonna need a little help here,” Foggy finally says once his breathing has slowed down and the cum is starting to cool. “You’ve effectively blinded me.”

Matt gives off a breathy laugh, pry’s Foggy’s hand from his hip, and efficiently moves through the apartment to the bathroom. He returns with a wet washcloth and hands it over.

They clean up in relative silence, pausing for kisses every now and then. Foggy changes into sweats and an old shirt from college; Matt borrows a pair of boxers and shirt from Foggy. They order delivery from the pizza place two blocks over and settle down on the couch to watch some reality TV. (“No, seriously, she is trying on the mermaid dress and Randy looks like he’s about to shoot lasers from his eyes at her mother.”)

~

“My idea worked?” Karen asks, incredulous, the next day at the office when Foggy and Matt stroll in with lazy smiles on their faces.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Matt jokes and heads into his office.

“Really?” Karen asks Foggy who just shrugs and grins at her shocked face.

“Sometimes, pre-teen tactics work.”

Foggy goes into his office and gets started on his day. If his mind wonders and he catches himself staring at Matt from across the way then so be it. He’s pretty sure he catches Matt daydreaming more often than not that day, anyways.


End file.
